


For Every Scar, A Story

by rangersandlegends



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canon Compliant, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-06 00:50:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15183107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rangersandlegends/pseuds/rangersandlegends
Summary: In a world where soulmates take on the injuries and emotions of each other, Felicity Smoak may have it the worst of all.





	For Every Scar, A Story

**Author's Note:**

> I love soulmate fics, so I write a lot of them.

“Mommy, are you and Daddy soulmates?”

 

That was the question that started it all. An innocent inquiry from a pig-tailed five year old.

 

“Honey, where did you hear that word?” Donna Smoak answered her daughter with another question.

 

“Mikey said I could be his soulmate, like his mommy and daddy are soulmates. He says it means they’re in love. So are you and Daddy soulmates?”

 

Donna gathered her daughter in her arms and sat on the couch.

 

“Soulmates are just two people who are very special to each other. Sometimes they’re in love, but sometimes they don't know each other. Your daddy and I are in love, but we’re not soulmates.”

 

Felicity wrinkled her nose, and tilted her head in confusion. “How can you be in love if you’re not soulmates?”

 

And Donna explained to her daughter everything: how soulmates could feel each other’s emotions and take away each other’s pain. How soulmates were perfect for each other, but how they didn’t always meet.

 

“I love your daddy very much, even though he’s not my soulmate. Do you understand?”

 

“Yes, Mommy.”

 

“Good.” She placed a kiss to her daughter’s head. “Don’t worry about soulmates until you're older.”

 

“Older” came when Felicity was seven and her father left. He took the sunshine with him. She cried for days. Plenty of kids at school had parents who were divorced, but she didn’t know of any parent who had just up and left. Her mother kept telling her it wasn’t her fault, that she was blameless. Then whose fault was it? Her mom? Her dad? Both?

 

No, the problem was that they weren’t soulmates. For all of her mother’s talk about not needing to be soulmates to fall in love, it wasn’t enough. Only soulmates were enough. So she’d wait for hers. She’d wait.

 

She got to MIT at sixteen. She was technically a genius, but there were plenty of those there. She didn’t feel especially pretty or popular or special. She had brown hair, blue eyes, and ratty t-shirts. She just blended in.

 

Felicity knew what a soulmate twinge was. It came when you started to feel your soulmate’s emotions. That was the deal: you got half their pain, but also half their joy. They usually started when you were a teenager, although there were always exceptions. She had expected to have one before she was sixteen, but she didn’t. Not even a paper cut.

 

Felicity was beginning to gain the attention of other coders, especially the boys. One in particular wanted her in his club. She knew Cooper was interested in more than just her coding, but she was lonely, and sick of being the only one without soulmate twinges, or an actual soulmate. Cooper made her forget all of that, at least while she was with him.

 

She was seventeen when she felt something for the first time. She was taking a final when she began to giggle. Something was extremely funny. She tried to stop, but couldn’t, only managing to mask the laughter was a coughing fit. The TA gave her a funny look, but she kept it down. Not having time to give it the proper consideration, she put her thoughts aside and continued writing.

 

When she got back to her dorm, she Googled random giggle fits, and there was only one explanation: her soulmate was doubled over laughing somewhere, and she had taken her half of it. She had a soulmate! It was a bit late, but it still counted. She, Felicity Smoak, ahd someone out there made for her.

 

How to tell Cooper? He was anti-soulmate, and either didn’t get twinges or pretended he didn’t. Her twinges were few and far enough between to write off. A burst of laughter here, some tears there. It didn’t feel real until her clumsy self tripped and fell down the stairs in her dorm. It should have hurt like crazy, but instead, it felt alright. Only half as bad as it should.

 

Her soulmate had taken half the pain on himself.

 

As saddened as she was that her soulmate was in pain, she was glad their connection was working both ways now.

 

She was able to maintain the balance between dating Cooper and having a soulmate for a while. When she was nineteen, it all fell apart.

 

Felicity woke in the middle of the night, screaming in terror. She felt alone, so alone. One thought in her head: Where was she? She needed to find her. Despair, pure despair, and fear. She couldn’t sleep, could hardly breath. She was hot and cold, safe and endangered, dry and wet. Everything was a blur.

 

After an hour or so, the sensation faded. Whatever was happening with her soulmate was over. She hoped he was alright. He hadn’t been physically injured, but something had shook him to his core.

 

Things were calm on the soulmate front for a few days. The event seemed to be a thing of the past. Until she let out a gut-piercing scream during lecture. She grabbed her backpack and ran out of the hall before she could see anyone looking at hte weird goth girl being a freak.

 

She locked herself in a bathroom stall and sobbed. She knew she only felt half of it, but it was debilitating. She cried until she was so physically exhausted she fell asleep.

 

Felicity awoke to a knocking on her stall door. “You need to leave.” She could see the yellow water pail on the other side of the stall. Custodian. She grabbed her bag, wiped the drool off her face, and did her walk of shame past the woman.

 

All she wanted was to curl up with Cooper and shut the world out. Was that too much to ask? Could she not be a freak for one night?

 

The cuddling with Cooper was going fine, until she felt a sharp pain in her shoulder. She reached up to massage it, and felt something sticky. Red and sticky. Blood.

 

Cooper drove her to the hospital, where she was admitted to the ER. They had to stitch her up, explaining that it would still scar. She wanted to go as soon as she was done, but they told her to wait.

 

A woman in a pantsuit came into her room and asked to speak with her privately. Cooper obliged.

 

“So, Ms. Smoak, can you tell me how you got impaled?”

 

“I didn’t.”

 

“Ah, so it’s a soulmate wound.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Your boyfriend seemed alright to me.”

 

“He’s not my soulmate. We haven’t met.”

 

The woman took a seat in Cooper’s unoccupied chair. “Ah. And you don’t plan on being with your soulmate?”

 

“I have to find him first. But I would like to be with him.”

 

“Even though he injures you?”

 

“This is the first time it’s ever been physical.”

 

“So there have been other ways/”

 

“He has...panic attacks? But they’d be so much worse if I wasn’t there for him.”

 

“Have you ever considered that? Not being there for him?”

 

Break the connection? She shuddered. She wasn’t interested in getting the shot that would sever the bond. He needed her.

 

“I only mention it, Ms. Smoak, because this is going to get worse, and-”

 

“You can’t know that.”

 

“I’ve seen many in your situation, Ms. Smoak. You think you’re doing something for love, but you may never even meet him. He wouldn’t want you to live like this.”

 

“If he doesn’t want this, he can get the shot. I’m staying.”

 

“Alright. You’re free to go.”

 

Felicity stepped out in the hall, and saw a dejected Cooper slouched against the wall.

 

“How much of that did you hear?”

 

“Enough. I’m done, Felicity.” He pushed himself off the wall, and headed out. She didn’t follow.

 

It didn’t get better. She received her diploma while recovering from a bullet wound, and went through her first job interview while suffering a panic attack. Hospitalizations were common, and she had gotten a medical ID bracelet just in case.

 

She soon found her favorite ER in her new home, Starling City. Starling General had the most exhausted and overworked staff that didn’t have time to ask questions about sword stabbings. All the social workers knew her from the times they had to come in and offer her the shot. She signed any and all paperwork that would keep that needle far from her.

 

The doctors were at a loss when she came in with a shark bite. She figured by now her soulmate was either a soldier or some kind of world traveler. She’d add scuba diver to her list.

 

It was her first real clue. She dug deep to see who had been bitten by a shark that day, hacking hospital records and setting up alerts. Nothing. Either her soulmate didn’t go to the hospital, or he didn’t exist.

 

But the physical injuries paled in comparison to the stifling loneliness and panic attacks. They came at night, during the day, at work, in the shower. She wasn’t triggering them; they just happened. She could take aspirin when he was cut, but antipsychotics wouldn’t help her with someone else’s emotions. And his were raw, a force of nature.

 

So she decided she would feel good, so he’d at least have that from her. She only watched comedies, avoiding anything that might make her cry. She practiced mindfulness and meditation so she could refocus when she got upset. She stayed in her low-stress IT job at QC, not wanting to upset the status quo.

 

Felicity was sleeping when she felt the heat. Her own screaming woke her up. Her back was on fire. Jumping out of bed, she hurried to the bathroom, tearing off her tank top as she ran. The mirror revealed what she already knew: her entire lower back was covered in a burn. She stripped off her shorts, and hopped in an ice cold shower. It helped, but it wasn’t enough. This was at least a second degree burn. Medical attention was needed.

 

She managed to drive herself to Starling General, and got immediate attention. They salved and bandaged it, but it still throbbed. She was lying on her stomach when the social worker entered.

 

“Felicity, we need to talk.” She heard the door close and turned to the familiar voice. It was Nancy, a matronly woman who had seen Felicity through a few scrapes. “This can’t keep happening.”

 

“I’m not taking the shot, Nancy. I’m just not.”

 

“I know you think you’re doing what’s right, but you need to think about yourself here. You’re in so much pain you can’t even sit up.”

 

“My life, my soulmate, my choice.”

 

“Actually, Felicity, it’s not anymore.”

 

“I’m sorry?”

 

“In extenuating circumstances, with the right recommendations, we can force you to get the shot.”

 

Felicity was baffled. She had no idea this was a possibility. “What circumstances?”

 

“When the risk of death is apparent.”

 

“And you think that’s me?”

 

“I do. It would be one thing if you knew your soulmate, and you could work together to mitigate the risks. But we need to consider the very real possibility that this is purposeful.”

 

She felt the air leave her lungs. Was she suggesting...no, that was not what this was. “You can’t be serious.”

 

“I’ve seen it in more cases than you’d think. The soulmate is either intentionally hurting themselves or want to hurt their soulmate. We have to consider that your soulmate is not all right.”

 

Felicity’s fists clenched. How dare this woman suggest her suffering soulmate would hurt himself or her? It was unthinkable. She needed to be here for him, to get him through this. He was in pain daily, and she could unburden him by half. She had to.

 

“You’re wrong. My soulmate is just in a bad situation, but he’s going to figure it out. We’re going to meet and fix this, together.”

 

Nancy looked at her sympathetically. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Felicity. But I’m making the recommendation that the next time you get checked into the ER, the shot be administered. I know I’ll get the backing I need to go through with it.”

 

Felicity’s heart dropped. It had been five years of hell, but she didn’t want it to end. She couldn’t leave her soulmate alone in this. Which meant no more seeking medical attention. If she never came back, there was nothing they could do.

 

“Alright, Nancy. I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

As she was being discharged, she felt something she hadn't felt in ages: hope. Through the feelings of loss, despair, betrayal, and loneliness, she never thought she’d feel hope. It was filling her chest, making her invinceable. It was so overwhelming that it was almost painful. She shed tears as she walked to the parking garage. It was too much.

 

The next few days were full of complete happiness. Maybe the tide was turning. It had been so long since she had been truly happy, and not just forcing it. She had an extra pep in her step, as her mother would say. If she had friends, they probably would have noticed.

 

The happiness died down, until she was left with silence. Silence was preferable to the nightmare she usually lived. She was able to focus on being the best at her job. Which she was. It was hard to prove it, considering how often she ran to the storage closet to do deep breathing, but she was.

 

Which is why her supervisor recommended that he come see her. Oliver Queen. The man who had been marooned on an island, allowing a miraculous return from the dead. A fact she reminded him of in a very inappropriate babble. He didn’t seem to care what she said one way or another, though. He was a man on a mission, and the mission was to get data off a laptop that had been shot up.

 

“I was at my coffee shop surfing the web and I split a latte on it,” was his explanation.

 

“Really? Because these look like bullet holes.”

 

“My coffee shop is in a bad neighborhood.”

 

Was this guy for real? Just because he was the hot billionaire son of her billionaire boss didn't mean she would believe his lies. It did, however, mean she’d do as she was asked. It quickly became clear it was not his laptop It seemed like he was trying to sabotage the Unidac Industries auction. Her working theory was he was trying to ruin Walter’s bid, in an attempt to discredit his stepfather. Maybe when he returned from the island he was upset his mother had remarried. This seemed like an unnecessarily complex way to enact his revenge, but at the end of the day, she didn’t care.

 

Her soulmate was shot that night. It wasn’t the first time. It was, however, the first time she couldn’t go to the hospital. With Google on her side, she did her best to bind it up. She probably needed stitches, but that wasn’t an option. She’d have to live with it as is.

 

The panic attacks were only sporadic now. Something had changed with her soulmate, she just couldn’t identify what. It certainly wasn’t less frequent injuries. But he was lighter somehow. Practically, it was pretty meaningless. To her? It was enough.

 

Oliver Queen came back. Multiple times. She helped him, of course. Her paycheck had his surname on it. She considered reporting him to someone, but who? His parents? That was rather first-grade. But they were the only ones who had any authority over him. There was his bodyman, who sometimes accompanied him to see her, but Oliver was his boss, too. Then there was the police. She could tell them everything that Oliver had been into, but it wasn’t illegal to do...whatever he did.

 

But all that wasn’t what occupied her time. No, that was the book that Walter Steele had given her. She theorized it had been written in with invisible ink. She took the book up to Applied Sciences to examine, but the few solutions they had used revealed nothing. Then there was the symbol on the front. It was too intricate to be random, but she was never one for abstract art. And how was it connected to the investment Moira Queen had  made that had led nowhere? The Queen family was into more than they let on.

 

Walter Steele disappeared. He was kidnapped, apparently. Felicity had information about his sketchy dealings just before he disappeared. What was she supposed to do with it?

 

All that was what caused her to meet up with Oliver outside of work. She thought he deserved to know what his step-father had been up to. Maybe the book was related to Oliver’s assorted dealings. She knew she wasn’t the best judge of character (because, duh, Cooper), but she felt like she could trust Oliver. So she gave him the book of names, and the knowledge that it came from his mother. Maybe that would be that. She hoped not. Oliver was one of the only bright spots in her life.

 

Felicity had been shot. That was her only thought when she crumpled over in pain at her desk while staying late one night. This is what she got for volunteering to work on an extra project. Instead of being able to clean and bandage the wound, she’d have to drive herself home first.

 

She reached her Mini in a daze. It’s not like she was bleeding out; she had only taken half the injury, after all. Still, it stung. Badly. She unlocked her car and climbed in. She turned to back out, and saw a lump on her back seat. A vigilante-shaped lump.

 

“I’m not going to hurt you, Felicity.”

 

“How do you know my name?”

 

“Because you know my name.”

 

Oliver was the vigilante.

 

She drove him to his father’s factory in the Glades, with help from her phone, guiding her down unfamiliar streets. She knew Oliver was bleeding, but it was unclear what had happened. Well, she knew it was because he was he was a vigilante, but nothing beyond that.

 

All these lies he hold her, all the stories he spun, it was all a cover for this. She didn’t really have an opinion on vigilantism, or the Hood specifically. She was generally anti-murder, and wasn’t a violent person. Maybe the vigilante, er, Oliver, had reasons for what he did. He hadn’t ever killed an innocent person, at least that she knew of. And even she knew that the crime rate in Starling was inexcusable. But taking the law into his own hands? What had happened to him on that island?

 

Oliver was able to whisper the code to a back door of the factory. She found a set of stairs, and clattered down them. His bodyman was pointing a gun at her, but she had already been shot that night, so she was over it.

 

“Excuse me. Can you help me? He’s really heavy.”

 

The bodyguard helped her get Oliver down the stairs and onto a metal table. From there, it was a tag-team effort to save his life. The bodyguard ripped Oliver’s jacket off to get at the injury. A bullet wound between his shoulder and neck. In the exact place as hers. Her eyes clinically traced his muscular form. It was like looking in a mirror. Every scar, every mark, an exact replica of her own. The man lying before her was her soulmate.

 

There was no time for reflection, however, as the older man barked out orders. He clearly had military training. Efficient and detached, he led her through her part of the back-alley procedure.

 

Once he was stable, Felicity asked if she could use some of their bandages. John acquiesced.

 

She let herself into a spartan bathroom, which was just a toilet, a sink, and a shower head above a drain, all separated from the rest of the space by a slab of drywall. Tearing her sweater off, she examined the wound. It was a direct hit, not a graze. The adrenaline of finding Oliver had driven her to this point, but she was completely exhausted. She bandaged herself up as much as she could, unsure whether or not she wanted to put her bloodied sweater back on. Not wanting a stranger to see her in just her bra, she carefully hoisted the garment over her head and down her frame again. Any blood on her could be excused as Oliver’s in this dark space.

 

“You good?” John asked her.  “You didn’t get shot, too?” He said it as a joke, but it hit closer to the mark than he thought.

 

She shook her head. “Just needed to bind something up.”

 

Despite just uniting to save a man’s life, they didn’t know each other well enough for John to dig deeper into her questionable need for medical supplies.

 

“You heading out?”

 

“No, I’ll stay until he comes to. Make sure he’s alright.”

 

John nodded and went about cleaning his gun. Felicity had left her purse in the car, so she couldn't just play around on her phone. She sat down in the only available seat, that which faced several monitors. Out of curiosity, she booted the system. Low-tech was an understatement here. It hadn’t seen an update since maybe 2009, and that was being generous. It probably wouldn’t hurt to check on the strength of the firewall. She placed her fingers over the keyboard, and began what she did best.

 

What was she doing? Was she going to help Oliver in his quest to literally murder people? Not just any man, she reminded herself. Her soulmate. It was the first moment she had to really think about it. Oliver Queen who was the Hood who was her soulmate. A billionaire murderer soulmate. She laughed at the thought. She had avoided the Cooper mess to walk right into this?

 

How did she not see this coming? The injuries, the panic attacks, it had all started when Oliver disappeared. It was almost too obvious. What didn’t make sense was the nature of the injuries. Who had shot him on a deserted island? There were only two explanations: the island wasn’t deserted, or he wasn’t on the island. He learned archery somewhere; Oliver was a drunk playboy before he left. But if the island wasn’t deserted, that meant someone had to have known where it was, and had been there to what, shoot at a castaway? No, the more likely theory was that he had lied about being on the island. Had he faked the Gambit sinking to run away, learn archery, and come back to kill people? His own father had died in the cover, though. Unless...had he killed his father, too? Robert Queen fit the Hood’s profile.

 

_Come on, Felicity, that was craziness_. This was Oliver. The guy with an adorable smirk that he could use to get her to do just about anything, willingly. He wasn’t into patricide. He was doing what he thought was right. And she was clearly in on it now. Just knowing his identity made her an accessory. And it’s not like she hadn’t thought something was going down before. But now she had the power: she had his identity. She had the leverage here.

 

She considered what would happen when he woke up. He’d either kill her, or ask her to join the team. John Diggle was a good man. And as he explained his reasons for being a part of this crusade, she began to believe in it. Not in the murder-y part, but in the part where this city needed something, and Oliver could be that someone. At the very least, Walter needed someone. Before she knew it, her mind was made up. She was going to find Walter, and Oliver would help her do it.

 

What she couldn’t be was a part of this long-term. Now that she knew where her scars had come from, it...well, it scared her. She didn’t want to be this up close and personal to everything that was going on. She had created a good life for herself, a pain free life. She’d be more helpful to him if she was out of his way, providing him happiness from afar.

 

Oliver stirred, and both John and her responded.

 

“I guess I didn’t die. Again. Cool.”

 

He got up and wrapped himself in a blanket. John handed him a mirror and he examined the wound. “It’s not bad. So how are we going to explain this one?”

 

Felicity rolled her eyes. It really wasn't that bad. She wasn’t the one who had passed out from the blood loss, though. And as far as explanations, she would be wearing turtlenecks for the foreseeable future.

 

She was able to convince the SCPD crime lab to destroy Oliver’s blood sample, so that was another save for her. She explained that to Oliver, as well as what she had done to his system.

 

“It’s a lot of work,” he observed. “Does that mean you’re in?”

 

“You mean in, as in I’m going to join your crusade?”

 

“Well, you’re practically an honorary member of the team already.”

 

“So Mr. Diggle said.” But that wasn’t what she wanted. “No.”

 

“Then why’d you upgrade my system?”

 

“First, because seeing a network that poorly set up hurts me, in my soul. And second, I want to find Walter.”

 

“My stepfather.”

 

“He was nice to me. And Mr. Diggle told me that the notebook you use to fight crime is the same notebook that got Walter abducted. I’ll help you rescue him, but that’s it. Then I want to go back to my boring life of being an IT girl.” Now that she knew where all of her wounds were from, she wanted nothing to do with it. She could save Walter, but then she couldn’t do this. Not for real. “That’s my offer.”

 

“Okay.” She began to walk back toward the stairs. “Felicity?” He made sure she was looking him in the eye. “Thank you.”

 

She went home and slumped on the couch. All this time waiting for her soulmate, and this is what she got. In the back of her mind, she always just assumed there was a rational explanation for all of his injuries. He was a soldier, or he lived in a war-torn country, or he was in a gang. She could’ve never guessed “tortured on a deserted island.”

 

Did she want to be Oliver Queen’s soulmate? Before all this, she’d have said yes. She liked Oliver; he was always nice to her. It helped that he was ridiculously attractive. But now she found herself not wanting to get involved with him any more than was necessary.

 

It helped, watching Oliver out in the field. She could anticipate when she’d feel pain, and what kind.She’d watch the thug aim a kick at his ribs, and wince as the blow hit. She had time to bandage herself up before Oliver and Dig came back, and she’d have to take care of them, too.

 

Sometimes, Oliver went after criminals who weren’t on the list. The Dodger was one such criminal. Oliver begrudgingly agreed Felicity could come out into the field to help catch him. He even gave her a stipend to buy something gala-worthy when she mentioned she didn’t have anything. Finding something that properly covered all of her scars was no easy feat, never was. Strapless was out, spaghetti straps were out, any kind of low cut was out. She needed something that would help her blend in, though. If she covered up too much, it’d look suspicious. She finally something gold and sequin-clad that she thought would go over well.

 

What she was not prepared for was Oliver Queen in full evening wear. She had seen him shirtless, but full suit and tie Oliver was a close second in terms of hotness. Godlike hotness. Oliver, to his credit, did not swoon over her in her dress in the least. He was used to all sorts of women in all sorts of outfits, so maybe this was to be expected. She wasn’t gorgeous Laurel, after all.

 

The night was going fine, until the part where an international jewel thief strapped a bomb collar to her neck. She was scared, sure, but nowhere near as scared as she had been dozens of times because of Oliver’s emotions. She took deep breaths, and thought about Oliver on the salmon ladder. A girl could have a happy place.

 

As the Dodger drove through downtown, she considered another reason she wasn’t scared: Oliver was going to save her. She believed in him. He could save her, and he would. He wasn’t just a vigilante, he was a hero. And when he finally deactivated the collar, her faith was proven. She trusted Oliver. They were a unit now.

 

When they finally had a lead on Walter, Felicity insisted on going out into the field herself. No one had more experience in casinos than her. Oliver wanted to go in himself, worried she’d get hurt. She didn’t tell him it didn’t matter which of them got injured; she’d feel the pain either way.

 

Although it was underground, a blackjack table was a blackjack table, and she was in her element. It was almost fun messing with the other men at the table, increasing her bet every hand. If this was for real, she would probably have a made a year’s salary in just those few minutes. As it was, she was hauled to the back.

 

Oliver rescued her, as planned, and got the intel out of the bad guy. The only problem was the intel had to be wrong. Walter couldn’t be dead.

 

They found Walter. She went to see him at the hospital, where he was already surrounded by family. Matriarch Moira, troublesome Thea, and Oliver. Maybe in another life these people could have been her family, too. But she knew that wasn’t meant to be.

 

Oliver introduced her as his friend, the first time such a thing had been spoken. It wasn’t soulmate, but friend was fine. Certainly better than employee, or personal hacker.

 

Felicity finally got the much-needed answers about the book of names that had kick-started her involvement in the crusade. It was an elite club of socialites who had decided to destroy the Glades, spearheaded by Malcolm Merlyn. Moira Queen was in on it, too. How could anyone think that mass murder would fix anything? Men, women, children, just tear the whole thing down. Felicity didn’t know anyone who lived in the Glades, but that didn’t meant she wanted them all to die.

 

Oliver was the only one who could stop it. She knew that in her bones. It was the ultimate fruition of everything he had been working on: this was how he destroyed the List for good. So what if Merlyn had bested him before? He had only trained harder since then. Oliver could and would beat Merlyn. He would save this city.

 

No one could’ve known how far ahead Merlyn was. Even in death, he had bested them. There was a second machine, and the Glades fell. Five hundred and three people perished. The news called it urban terrorism. The police called it unavoidable tragedy. The courts called it the fault of Moira Queen. Oliver called it his.

 

He was gone. That was the only thing she knew for sure. In the blink of an eye, her life had returned to normal. No more hacking, no more moonlighting as a vigilante, no more soulmate. Just IT and sci-fi television. But even that was falling apart.

 

Queen Consolidated desperately needed a CEO. Specifically someone to provide leadership and stability. Their stock might have actually been worth negative dollars, if such a thing were possible. Their name now represented mass murder, both in the form of Moira Queen and as the manufacturers of the earthquake machine. The board was unlikely to coalesce around a single person since they forced Walter out. That meant someone could come in from the outside.

 

Then there was the crime issue. Everyone from the Glades was now homeless, meaning they were more desperate than ever. The shelters couldn’t contain all of them. Plus, Iron Heights had had a massive break-out because of the earthquake, and no one had said a thing. Law enforcement was trying to silently round up the criminals, but they weren’t very good at it. Dig made a habit of patrolling the streets at night, but he wasn’t enough. They weren’t enough.

 

It was at this point that Felicity realized how deep into this thing she had gotten. It wasn’t about saving Walter anymore. That was over and done. The List? Not relevant. She was doing this because she believed in Oliver. She told Dig that they were going to bring him back. He told her Oliver wouldn’t come if he didn’t want to. She’d just make him want to.

 

The bunker needed to be ready when he returned, so she illegally funneled money from his trust fund to get a whole new set-up, complete with a new bow. And, yes, many more monitors for her to keep track of goings on. She put her new system to good use by searching for Oliver.

 

Wherever he was, her soulmate was safe from physical harm. He got a few scrapes and bruises, but that was to be expected of anyone. She was eventually able to uncover the flight log of the plane had had used. It put him down in the middle of the ocean. Or, more specifically, the North China Sea.

 

Dig helped her pack, and she took care of the lositics to get there under the radar. It would do no good for people to think Oliver had gone native. It seemed the quickest way to get there was to hire a pilot in China, who could fly the in a small capacity aircraft. She wasn’t much for flying, but she’d do it for Oliver.

 

Turns out “small capacity aircraft” meant “communist era plane” and “arrive on Lian Yu” meant “jump into the ocean.” Luckily Dig had experience with such things, or she would’ve drowned. As it was, she barely held onto her lunch.

 

Felicity had never been somewhere so quiet. It was if someone had turned the sound off. The only noise was her own breathing, and the sound of their footsteps in the sand. She wasn’t really a nature person, but she could see the appeal of it. No one could bother her here, not even her thoughts. Dig led them deeper into the forest. She wasn’t sure where they were going, but he seemed to have picked up the makings of a trail.

 

The break in the silence was what she noticed first. A small click, out of place here. A land mine. Like a modern-day Tarzan, Oliver swung in out of nowhere and rescued her. A very sweaty, very muscly Tarzan.

 

She and Dig had decided to make his return to the city about the company, not righting his failures as the Hood. Plus, Thea needed family. Having the mansion to herself hadn’t been productive; she spent all her time with Roy anyway. They were able to convince him to return, but only for the company.

 

The “only for the company” mantra hadn’t lasted long once he saw the state of his city. He could be a leader. She believed in him, all sides of him. That wasn’t good. She had fallen for her soulmate. Hard.

 

But if she was trying to fight her feelings for her soulmate, Oliver was oblivious. He only had eyes for Laurel. And who could blame him? Laurel was not only gorgeous, she was smart, could hold her own, and stood up for what was right. Tommy’s death seemed like only a momentary setback for their inevitable reunion. She might have been his soulmate, but Laurel was his fantasy.

 

Of course all that turned on its head under the revelation that Sara was alive. The girl that the entire world blamed Oliver for killing. He had never even denied it. He had let everyone believe she had drowned wen the Gambit sunk. But he hadn’t. Felicity remember the terror of the night the boat went down. Oliver had been looking for someone, someone Felicity now knew to be Sara. He had watched her die twice. That explained two of her panic attacks, then.

 

Turns out Sara was part of a shadow organization called the League of Assassins. And they were coming for her. Add that to the heightened crime rate, and it was all hands on deck. Sara slowly became part of the team, and she was as good a fighter as Oliver. Plus she could perform microscopic analysis. And she held Oliver’s attention in a very Laurel-like way. Maybe it was strictly a Lance thing.

 

Oliver and Sara were suddenly together. Or maybe it wasn’t sudden, but rather six years in the making. They were the ultimate power couple. The Arrow and the Canary. Which left Felicity as...what? The Secret Soulmate? What kind of code name was that? Her only superpower was helping Oliver with his wounds. Anything else, Oliver and Sara had covered.

 

Felicity was patching up one of Sara’s injuries when she commented how unusually deep it was. “Oliver never gets cuts this deep.”

 

“Yeah, my scrapes got worse after I got the shot.”

 

That made Oliver pause. “Wait, the League gave you the shot?”

 

She nodded. “It’s part of initiation. The emotions are a distraction, and having someone else take your pain away is dishonorable for a warrior.”

 

Felicity was curious. “What’s it like? Losing the connection?”

 

Sara shrugged. “I didn’t get a lot of twinges anyway, so it wasn’t a big loss. The pain was a shock, but you get used to it.”  She turned to Felicity, who was tying off the last bandage. “What about you? Soulmate out there?”

 

Felicity looked at the ground, fighting a blush. “Yeah, he’s out there.”

 

Sara hopped off the medical table. “I’ve moved on from soulmates. I can handle myself. Goodnight, Felicity.”

 

And Sara walked off with Felicity’s soulmate. Felicity felt an unfamiliar feeling invade her. Jealousy. Sara had been forced to give up on her soulmate, but that didn’t mean she was entitled to Felicity’s. She knew Oliver was his own man, and he got to choose who he wanted to be with. And the guilt of knowing he’d scarred her would destroy him. She needed to take away his pain, not add to it. It was better this way.

 

The Clock King was one step ahead of her at every point. It wasn’t often they face criminals with this depth of tech expertise. It was beyond the capabilities of the dream team, so she took on the challenge. She took it all the way into the field. Maybe she needed to prove herself, that was was as worthy as the rest of the team. Maybe she just wanted to make Oliver proud. Whatever the case, she was here now, in a leather jacket that made her feel empowered, hacking at the source. Honestly, her plan wasn’t supposed to get her involved on any of the action-y parts. But her legs acted faster than her mind, and she took a bullet for Sara.

 

The fight was finished in seconds, as Felicity was able to electrocute him with his cell phone. Sara called in that Felicity was hurt, and they agreed to take her to the hospital. To be honest, she couldn’t complain about the pain. It wasn’t like she hadn’t felt the sting of a bullet before. The only difference this time was that the bullet was inside her. She rode in the back of Dig’s van with Sara, who gave her a spare cloth to press down on the wound.

 

“We’re not going to the hospital,” Felicity said steadily.

 

Dig huffed in frustration. “Felicity, you were just shot. You-”

 

“You guys never go to the hospital. There will be too many questions. This isn’t up for discussion. Just go back to the Bunker.”

 

Sara pressed the comm further into her ear. “Ollie, she’s refusing the hospital.”

 

Felicity didn’t know what Oliver said in response, but she could tell it was growly. “What do you mean you were shot, too?”

 

Panic flooded Felicity’s veins. Not because Oliver had been shot, because she realized he hadn’t. There was a bullet wound in the back of his right shoulder, cutting through his dragon tattoo, not because of his heroism, but because of hers. And as soon as he saw her wound, he’d know he hadn’t been hit with a ricochet from his six. He’d know. They’d all know.

 

“I just want to go home,” Felicity moaned.

 

“No, Felicity, you need stitches,” Sara emphasized.

 

“No, I don’t. I have a soulmate. The wound isn’t that deep.” Sara hesitated. Then Felicity went into the guilt trip. “I saved your life tonight. The least you can do is just take me home.”

 

Sara sighed. “Fine. Dig, take her home.”

 

Dig took a sharp right toward her apartment complex. Maybe she could bind up the wound before anyone made the connection between her and Oliver. She’d take a few days off, and soon it would just be another scar for Oliver that no one cared to notice. Once she had been dropped off at home, she headed for the bathroom, and dug out her First Aid kit. Well, it was more like a full medical work-up than what was in a typical bathroom, but she wasn’t dealing with a papercut here.

 

Felicity was done patching herself up when she heard a knock on the door. Well, more like a bang. Someone wanted in, and she knew who. She also knew if she didn’t let him in, he’d find a way other than the door. She winced as she put her blouse back on, and trudged over to answer the door.

 

She opened the door, and Oliver stood there, in jeans and his leather jacket. His eyes immediately went to her right shoulder, as if he would be able to see the wound with X-ray vision. Felicity silently stepped out of the way, and Oliver let himself in. His gaze roamed over her living room and kitchen, orienting himself to his surroundings. Of course. He had somehow never been here before.

 

Oliver finally turned to her. “We’re soulmates.”

 

There it was. Everything she wanted and feared. Two words would change her life forever. For once, she had nothing to say. No words to put things back to the way they were. Nothing could make this right, fix it.

 

She finally met Oliver’s eyes. She tried to decipher the emotions she saw there. Instead, she got Oliver’s schooled emotionless expression. She couldn’t feel his emotions, either, which was rare. It felt like going in blind without them.

 

When it became clear she had nothing to say, Oliver filled the silence. “Show me.”

 

Felicity knew what he wanted, what he needed to see. They were standing at the edge of a precipice, and one of them needed to jump. So she jumped.

 

Slowly, she pulled off her blouse. As it passed her face and she was momentarily blinded, she heard him gasp. Gently discarding her top on the ground, she looked back up at him. This time the emotions were transparents in his eyes and in her heart. Pain, sadness, anger, confusion and guilt. So much guilt.

 

He began taking stock of her injuries with his eyes. Each time he lingered on a scar, it felt like a physical caress. By the time he had finished his inventory, her body was on fire. His eyes flicked back up to meet hers. There were unshed tears in them. He slumped backwards onto her couch, burying his face in his hands.

 

“How long?” he mumbled. She took a seat on the coffee table across from him.

 

“A year. Since the night you brought me in.”

 

He nodded stoically. She could feel the beginnings of a panic attack in her chest. He was spiralling. She needed to do something.

 

“I need you to focus on my voice, Oliver. Breathe in, breathe out. Good. Again.” His hands were shaking. She grabbed them. “Squeeze my hands. It’s okay. You’re safe. It’s just me. Just Felicity.”

 

Oliver finally got back under control. He looked at her, actually crying this time. “Why didn’t you get the shot?”

 

“My soulmate needed me. I couldn’t abandon him.”

 

“Slade, Merlyn, the Bratva...Felicity, I’ve been tortured.”

 

She absently traced a few of her stab wounds. “I know.”

 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” his voice was desperate, pleading.

 

“At first, I felt insecure, scared you’d still reject me. Then, I realized you could never save the city if I was holding you back.”

 

“Felicity….”

 

“No, listen. Tell me you’d have still gone out there every night if you knew.”

 

“Of course not! I’d have taken the shot, and-”

 

“And doubled all your injuries. You wouldn’t last like that. This was my way of saving this city. And I knew you’d never accept it.”

 

“That isn’t your job! You didn’t sign up for this! My choices shouldn’t cause you pain, they just shouldn’t.” He shook his head, and stood. “I need to go.”

 

“And what? Get the shot? That’s a death sentence, Oliver.”

 

“It’s better than…” he gestured at her, “this.”

 

She couldn’t handle the look of pure disgust on his face. So that was it. He didn’t want to be her soulmate. Scars or no scars, she wasn’t wanted. Despair washed through her, and she saw no reason to stop it.

 

Oliver paused, with his hand on the doorknob. He pivoted slowly to face her. “Why do you feel that way?”

 

She wiped tears off her face. “I’m not going to stop you, if this is what you want. You have Sara, and Laurel, and even if you didn’t...even if you didn’t, it’d probably still be the same.”

 

Confusion was written on his features now. “What do they have to do with this?”

 

“If you’d rather be with them, I understand. It’s your choice.”

 

He strode over to sit next to her on the coffee table. “You think this is about me choosing other women?”

 

“If you don’t want to be my soulmate, I understand. You do what’s best for you, Oliver.”

 

His face was twisted into an unreadable expression, but she could feel his sadness. “This is not about other women. This is about you.”

 

“Right, because I’m-”

 

“Let me finish. This is about you bleeding for me. This is about the bruises that litter your chest. This is about the scars that will never heal. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t put an end to it. It’s inexcusable.”

 

“Then why didn’t you end it, Oliver? The Gambit sank six and a half years ago! You’ve been stateside eighteen months! If it’s so inexcusable to have your soulmate suffer, why didn’t you put an end to it?”

 

Oliver jumped up. “Because she wasn’t you! Okay? She was out there, she wasn’t here, she wasn’t you!”

 

“So you know me?” She stood. “So what? You knew you had a soulmate, you just didn’t care. You don’t get to feel guilty only because your soulmate is someone you work with.”

 

“No! I get to feel guilty that she’s someone I could really care about!”

 

“That is crap, Oliver! If you cared about me, why are you with Sara? Or Laurel? Or Isabel freakin’ Rochev?”

 

He winced at the mention of the names. “When I’m in someone’s life, for real, they get hurt. Look at yourself, Felicity. You chose to care about me, and it’s destroying you. You think I want that for you?” He strode back to the door. “I’m ending it.”

 

He opened the door and went down her driveway to his bike. If he got on it, he was gone. Had she really driven someone else off? No, he wasn’t leaving. She ran after him.

 

“Oliver!” He didn’t turn. “Oliver! You do not get to make this decision on your own!”

 

He finally turned, and his eyes widened. He whipped his jacket off, and tossed it at her.

 

“What is this? A memento?”

 

“Cover up,” he hissed.

 

Frack. She had run out of her apartment, yelling at a retreating man in her bra. She really was becoming her mother. She slipped the coat on.

 

“Thank you,” she huffed. “Will you let me talk now?”

 

“You won’t change my mind.”

 

“Then it won’t hurt to hear me out.” He gestured at her to continue. “If you get that shot, the next bullet wound could be fatal without me to help you take it. I won’t have it on my conscience that a good man died because he thought I couldn’t take it. I can. I have. I will.”

 

“I’m not a good man, Felicity. I’m a murderer.”

 

“And you’ve saved so many lives Oliver. I know who you are, and who you can be. Who I can help you be.”

 

“No, Felicity. This is wrong.”

 

It was at that desperate moment when Felicity decided that if this was her last chance to convince him, she’d go all in. She rushed up to him, grabbed the collar of his shirt to pull him down, and kissed him. When he didn’t resist, she laced her fingers around the back of his neck, sinking deeper into the kiss. And he responded. She could feel his desire for her in her veins, mingling with her own. It was a heady rush. She didn’t want to ever stop. But in order to prove her point, she did. She pulled back and whispered, “Did that feel wrong?”

 

Felicity pulled back enough to see Oliver’s face. HIs eyes were squeezed shut, and his breath was coming out in pants. “You think this is about me not wanting you?” He opened his eyes. They were full of desire. “This is about me wanting you too much. But I can’t let that lead me to hurt you.”

 

She crossed her arms. “It would hurt me more if you severed the bond. So much more.”

 

He sighed, running his hands over his face. Then he laughed humorlessly. “So what are we going to do?”

 

“I don’t know. But I don’t think either of us can live with what the other wants.”

 

“Some soulmates we are, huh?”

 

“Well, we’ve never been particularly agreeable with each other. Makes sense that would extend to this as well.” She shrugged. “You hungry? I have lo mein in the fridge.”

 

“You giving up on this fight?”

 

“Call it a time-out.”

 

So they went back inside and ate lo mein in silence, Felicity finally putting her blouse back on. She gave Oliver his jacket back, but he refused.

 

“It looks better on you, anyway.” She slid the cologne-scented jacket back on. “How did you do it?”

 

“What?”

 

“Remain emotionless for all those years.”

 

“Oh, that. Meditation, mostly. I figured you clearly had enough on your plate without me worrying about my linear algebra final. And I was right for the record.”

 

He tilted his head. “You’re remarkable.” He must’ve seen her disbelief because he continued. “No, really. Anyone else would’ve taken the shot if their soulmate got stabbed. But you went through it for years.”

 

“It wasn’t that bad.”

 

Now it was his turn to look at her in disbelief. “I went through it, too, Felicity. I knew exactly how it felt.”

 

There was a certain relief to that. Someone who knew what she had been through, who didn’t think she was a freak for it. Instead, he saw her as remarkable.

 

“I was wondering…” She cut herself off before she could finish her embarrassing request.

 

He looked up from his noodles. “What?”

 

She stretched back her blouse to showcase her first wound. “You got this pretty early. What was it?”

 

Instead of answering her question, he deflected. “What were you doing when you got that?”

 

“Watching TV with my boyfriend.” A new emotion came from him: jealousy. She took a bit of pride in knowing she could make Oliver Queen jealous. “He dumped me that night, when I refused to take the shot.”

 

“Oh.” Oliver ate another forkful of noodles. Without looking up, he said, “I was shot with an arrow. The man’s name was Yao Fei. I wear his hood.”

 

“You wear the hood of a man who tried to kill you?”

 

“If he was trying to kill me, he would have. It was just a test. He wanted to know if I could survive.”

 

“And you did,” she offered gently.

 

“And I did.” He looked up at her. “Because of you.” She could see the intensity in his eyes. He really meant it. Her apartment faded away, and all she could see was him. The man who had saved her. The man she had saved. Why couldn’t he see it? She didn’t know how long they were looking into each other’s eyes when he broke the connection.

“Why won’t you let me keep helping you?”

 

“Felicity….”

 

“No, I don’t see it. The connection keeps both of us safe, you now. You helped me take that bullet tonight-”

 

“You won't be taking any more bullets. Ever.”

 

“Be that as it may, the connection is a support system. What are you going to do without that in your life?”

 

“I’ll manage,” he grunted.

 

“No, you won’t.”

 

“This argument is going nowhere, Felicity. I’m not going to change my mind.”

 

“That kiss...we’re made for each other.”

 

“If I cared for you, I’d get the shot. Simple as that.”

 

“If you cared for me, you’d listen to what I want.”

 

“No, I’d do what’s best.”

 

“The fact that you haven’t left yet is proof you don’t know what’s best. You’re stuck.” He gave her a pained look. He was stuck. “I’ll make this easy for you. Do you want to be with me?”

“You’re my soulmate, of course I-”

 

“No, do you want to be with me? Felicity Smoak, IT girl slash vigilante?”

 

“I want you to be safe.”

 

“Has not being with me kept me safe?”

 

He lowered his head in shame. “No.”

 

She reached over, and let her fingers linger on the underside of his jaw, feeling the slightly ticklish texture of his stubble, before tilting his head up to look her in the eye. “That was my choice. Just like this is my choice. I choose to take on your burdens, for better or for worse, because that’s what this is about. Sharing our lives. It hurts me to think about you going out there, unprotected. It hurts me to know you're all alone in that big mansion, unable to sleep because of the invading nightmares. And it hurts me to think of someone else being the one you share your life with. I want this, I choose this, I choose you.”

 

Then, like a switch was being flipped somewhere inside Oliver’s mind, he lunged forward, capturing her mouth with his. She felt his desire, his happiness, his disbelief, but also his love. It was all there. Kissing him was like breathing: natural, instinctual, necessary. He tugged on her arms until she was sitting in his lap. She didn’t know how long they stayed like that until he broke it off, leaning down to rest his forehead against hers.

 

“Wow,” was all she could say.

 

He chuckled, and she could feel the rise and fall of his chest. “Wow indeed.” A burst of panic shot through her. He stiffened, on high alert. “What is it?”

 

“Sara. Oh my God, I’m a homewrecker.”

 

“Hardly. Sara and I are done. It was mutual.”

 

“Oh. That was quick.”

 

“As soon as she saw the wound, she knew. She practically kicked me out to get me here.”

 

They continued sitting like that, breathing in the same air, getting used to being so close. Felicity, for her part, enjoyed it immensely. She absently played with the hairs on the back of Oliver’s neck, and he hummed in appreciation.

 

“So is that a yes?” she asked.

 

He pulled back a bit to look at her fully. “A yes to what?”

 

“To choosing me?”

 

A wide smile broke out over his face. “There was no choice to make.”

 

She kissed him again then, because she couldn’t not kiss him for saying that. “Stay,” she breathed against his lips, as his hands tightened around her waist.”

 

“Tonight?”

 

“Forever.”

 

So he did.

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

Oliver was not close to his father. Between the many trips he took for business and for pleasure, and all the hours spent at the office, his children were not his priority. Oliver accepted this. The trips didn’t bother him, because he had a mansion full of distractions, a wild best friend, and a baby sister to occupy him.

 

He was eleven when the panic first set in. He and Tommy were playing video games when the feeling overcame him: he had to be with his dad. Sobbing, he called his dad’s secretary, who explained Robert was at an important meeting and not to be disturbed. He ran into the kitchen to find Raisa and the staff, and begged her to drive him down to the office to see his dad.

 

“Mr. Oliver, what’s this about?”

 

He attempted to tell her through sobs. “My dad...he’s gone...he left.”

 

“Mr. Queen is at the offices, you know that. He did not leave on trip.”

 

“No, he left forever!”

 

Raisa let him sit with her until he calmed down, by which point Tommy had left. When his father came home that evening, Oliver barreled into him. He just wanted a hug from his dad.

 

“Oliver, you’re too big to run at me like that.”

 

“I thought you left!” Oliver cried out.

 

“I was just at work, Oliver, stop being ridiculous.”

 

And so it continued. Oliver couldn’t handle his father leaving for work in the morning, and screamed when his father left on trips. He felt like his heart was being ripped out from him each time. What if his father didn’t come back? What if he didn’t love him anymore?

 

It got to the point that his mother sent him to therapy. A discreet place, of course, that would keep to themselves they were treating a Queen.

 

The man he talked to was nice. They mostly talked about school and Tommy and Thea. It wasn’t until the second week he asked Oliver about his father.

 

“And are you afraid he’ll leave?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Why do you think that?”

 

“I don’t know. It feels like he did.”

 

“Did he?”

 

“I know he didn’t, okay? I’m not a little kid.”

 

“Maybe your father didn’t leave physically, but emotionally?”

 

And so began the days of cataloguing and analyzing every moment spent with his father, to determine the source of his outbursts. Eventually, like night lights and blankies, Oliver outgrew his neediness. But there was still a hole there, for what he couldn’t have.

 

So Oliver filled that hole, with drinks, with drugs, with girls. There wasn’t a party he couldn’t attend, a high he couldn’t chase. It was freeing, not working to gain his father’s approval, not working to make him stay.

 

The only thing holding him down was Laurel. She was great, perfect even, but she wasn’t it. He didn’t know what it was, but he was going to find it: the thing that made him feel whole.

 

“Do you think we could be soulmates?” Laurel asked as she lay in his bed one night.

 

If he was being honest, he hadn’t considered it. He knew he had a soulmate, but the thought of it being Laurel wasn’t enticing.

 

“I don’t know, Laurel. I’ve never gotten a twinge.”

 

She sighed. “Me, either. Would you want us to be soulmates?”

 

“Of course,” he lied, as many teenagers had lied before him.

 

“Me, too. We’re kind of perfect for each other.”

 

“Yeah,” he murmured. On paper, it was true. They made sense. So why wasn’t his heart in it?

 

He asked himself that same question, years later, as he led the wrong Lance sister aboard the Gambit. He watched her die, his father die, everyone die. He was numb to it all, like something was taking the pain away.

 

When he woke up in Yao Fei’s cave as the archer ripped the arrow out of his chest, the older man nodded approvingly. “Xinxinxiangyin.”

 

“I don’t speak Chinese.”

 

He later learned it meant “soulmate.” Yao Fei had seen the wound and recognized he had a soulmate looking out for him.

 

He didn’t think that much about it until sparring with Slade months later. He took a brutal hit to the head, and barely reacted. Slade backed off.

 

“You have a soulmate connection.” It was a statement, not a question.

 

“Apparently.”

 

“Good. You’ll survive longer with one.”

 

“But what about her?”

 

“She’s going to have to live with it, just like you.” He stretched his arms out. “Besides, you see a doctor anywhere that will give you the shot?”

 

“What about your soulmate?”

 

Slade picked up his escrima sticks. “Less talking, more training, kid.”

He wondered if Laurel was his soulmate. It was possible. Neither of them were getting twinges before the island. But he had more questions than answers. Why didn’t he feel her? Why didn’t she get the shot? Did she know it was him? Did she know he wasn’t dead?

 

The “not being dead” thing might not have been true when Amanda Waller found him. She had brought him to Hong Kong, and asserted he was her employee now.

“Why would I work for you?”

 

“I don't see you as having much of a choice. In time, I hope you’ll see the good of what we do here. For the interim, though, I’m willing to offer you certain….concessions.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“News on your family, answers about the outside world, even a full meal.”

 

He sat up straighter in the bed. “How is my family?”

 

She provided photos, along with snippets of what her informants had passed along. She explained how the company was doing. “And Ms. Lance is in law school.”

 

“She actually did it,” he mumbled. Waller handed him a glass of bubbly brown liquid. He took it and drank. Some kind of nutrition shake. “What about my soulmate?”

 

“What about them?”

 

“I want the shot.”

 

“Mr. Queen, you’re in no position to make demands.”

 

“She’s out there somewhere, dealing with this. You want me to work for you, you owe her that. I owe her…” Things got hazy, as the glass fell out of his hand.

 

“Welcome to ARGUS, Mr. Queen.” The room spun out.

 

The next few months were full of murder. He thought of himself as just biding time until he could make his escape, but Maseo was just that much better than him. He was eating dinner with Maseo, Tatsu, and Akio one night when he asked the question on his mind.

 

“Why won’t Waller give me the shot?”

 

Maseo and Tatsu exchanged a glance, before Tatsu gave Akio a command in Japanese that sent him scampering to his room.

 

“You’re still connected to your soulmate?” Maseo asked.

 

Oliver nodded. “She hasn’t taken the shot, either.”

 

“When Maseo was recruited, I got the shot. Waller wouldn’t let him.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because it’s an advantage,” Maseo revealed.

 

Oliver was in disbelief. “What?”

 

“Agents with connections can take twice the beating. They don’t feel the same amount of pain, can’t be hurt the same way.”

 

“That’s barbaric,” Oliver uttered.

 

Tatsu shrugged. “It makes you more valuable to her. And you need to stay in her good graces.”

 

Apparently he hadn’t stayed in them long, as soon she was dropping him back on Lian Yu. He ended up with minimal injuries, so maybe his soulmate could appreciate this change of pace. But when he was being choked by magic, he wondered if she could feel it. She wouldn’t know this pain was more fantastical than the others, though.

 

Oliver finally left Lian Yu, and went to Russia. His decision to become a street fighter increased the pressure to get the shot. He did his best to save up his winnings to maybe get something in a back alley. That plan was delayed by his painful initiation into the Bratva. The night all the mob members drew their blades over his skin, he wondered what she could think of the marks. He hoped she had good insurance.

 

His beliefs changed when he met the mysterious Talia. A skilled warrior, she had agreed to train him. When he was cleaning his wounds one night, she had taken the time to examine him.

 

“Do you know your soulmate?”

 

“No.”

 

“And yet she continues to be connected to you.”

 

“Despite my best efforts. She doesn't deserve this.”

 

And Talia had the audacity to laugh. “Oh, Oliver, how naive.”

 

“What?” he growled.

 

“You think your soulmate is someone undeserving of these marks? Oliver, if her destiny is to be with you, what kind of person do you think she is?”

 

He sat there, stunned. Why would he assume his soulmate was a good person? She was probably as dark as he was, darker even. Maybe another murderer, or criminal, or torturer.

 

“You want to bring justice? Let her feel the pain.”

 

So Oliver did. He didn’t hide from his pain, he embraced it as a part of his life. Embraced it when Kovar beat him down. Embraced it when the nightmares came.

 

And when he came home, he shut down the happiness as much as he could. A man on a suicide mission didn’t need happiness.

 

He did, however, need help. That came with John Diggle and Felicity Smoak, each of whom he brought into his operation. They provided back-up and tech support, and, though he’d never admit it to them, the conscience a monster like him needed. Sometimes, they didn’t see him that way, though. They saw him as a person.

 

Laurel, though, saw him as the monster he was. Any hope he held onto that she was his soulmate was dashed when he saw her at a gala in a backless dress. Not a scrape on her. It was true, then; his soulmate was a monster.

 

He thought he found her in Helena, but after a night with her, it was clear she wasn’t it. McKenna was a distraction, and Laurel was a mistake.

 

Sara came back with scars on her skin, but not the right ones. She had gotten the shot, and didn’t really seem to care. She told him she had always assumed he was destined to be with Laurel. But Laurel couldn’t provide him the comfort Sara could, she didn’t know the things that Sara did.

 

Isabel should not be here. This was Dig’s trip, not hers. He couldn’t take one day off from this woman, could he? She made him angry all of the time, and it was endlessly frustrating. So frustrating he needed to push her against the wall and kiss her senseless. He needed all that hate to go somewhere, and there it went.

 

The consequences of his actions were lost on him until there was a knock at the door. It was Felicity, because of course it was. She had told him what time they needed to go, and that was now. He didn’t miss the hurt on her face when Isabel breezed past him out into the hall. He couldn’t miss the betrayal in her voice when she said that what happened here stayed here.

 

They spent the rest of the mission as partners, nothing more. They got Dig’s ex-wife out of prison. They returned home. Work at the office resumed. It wasn’t until he stopped by her desk that she brought it up again.

 

“Why her? I mean, besides the obvious leggy model reason.” She looked devastated. He could sense how hurt she was by the look on her face.

 

“It just kinda happened. It didn’t mean anything.” This answer wasn’t good enough for her. And she deserved more of an explanation. Her crush on him was obvious, but she deserved so much better. “Hey. Because of the life that I lead, I just think that it’s better to not be with someone I could really care about.”

 

He didn’t want to see her face, so he let her walk away. “Well, I think...I think you deserve better than her.”

 

He ran into his sister one night while he was heading out and she was heading in.

 

“What’s up with you and Sara?”

 

“We’re...seeing where things go. What about you and Roy?”

 

“Don’t deflect, Ollie. Are you and Sara together? Because Laurel-”

 

“Laurel doesn’t get a say in my dating life.”

 

Thea folded her arms. “She does if she’s your soulmate.”

 

“She’s not.”

 

“Right. Because your soulmate would be covered in scars. Which, by the way, should make her easy to find.”

 

“What?”

 

“I’m sure we have a PI who could pull up hospital records, put together a profile, and get her info. You’d just have to ask.”

 

“I’m not interested in my soulmate, Speedy.”

 

“You only say that because you haven’t found her yet.”

 

As he drove to the bunker for the night, he considered it. He wouldn’t even need to hire someone; Felicity could do it in a few minutes. He thought through the dates he had gotten some of his scars. His burn from Kovar would be a good one, same with the arrow from Yao Fei; he knew approximately when those were.

 

When he got down to the bunker, he found Felicity typing away at her station, alone.

 

“Felicity?”

 

She jumped. “Ah! I didn’t hear you come in.”

 

“I was hoping you could help me with a project.”

 

“I’m your girl. Well, not your girl, your girl, but...nevermind, you get it.”

 

He smiled in spite of himself. He had become accustomed to her abbling, and inartful phrasing. He found it endearing at this point. “Could you pull up hospital records for a specific injury on a specific date?”

 

She hovered her fingers over the keyboard. “Child’s play. What kind of injury?”

 

“A severe burn, covering the lower back, occurring in late May of 2012.” She didn’t type anything. “Felicity?”

 

“You’re looking for you soulmate.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You’re with Sara.”

 

“And?”

 

She turned her chair to face him. “That’s not a good idea. Love the one you’re with.” She stood, heading over to another monitor across the room.

 

“I’m not going to cheat on Sara, I’m just curious.”

 

“Then be curious on your own time,” she snapped. She turned to face him again, but he had gotten close to her back, causing her to now be in his personal space. A tendril of blonde hair had crossed over her face. He reached out to brush it out of the way and tuck it behind her ear. He let his fingers linger as her eyes darted to his lips and back to his eyes. Had her eyes always been this blue? He needed to lean in closer, to see her, to taste her-

 

Footsteps on the stairs had him pulling away. It was just Dig, reporting in for the night. The moment was over...whatever it was. He didn’t have feelings for his Girl Wednesday, did he? That would be insane. For starters, she was way too good for him. Too smart, too good, too pure. He was with Sara. They had complementary darknesses. Felicity was too bright, in more ways than one.

 

It all came to a head the night they fought Clock King. When Felicity reported that she was in the field, a rush of fear hit him. She was not to be in the field. Period. He assembled the team to retrieve her, but it fell apart. He was separated from her to clear their exit, guarded by two henchmen. They were simple to take out.

 

He was about to go check in on Felicity and the others when he felt a sharp pain in his right shoulder. He didn’t even hear the gun go off. Without thinking, he nocked an arrow, spun, and released it in the direction of the shot. The arrow hit thin air. He didn’t have time to track down the sniper, as Sara’s voice came through the comms. Felicity had been shot.

 

They agreed to rendez-vous at the bunker, and Oliver hopped on his bike. He sped to the club so fast, he beat the rest of the team there. He paced the cavernous basement, imagining Felicity bleeding out in the back of the van. He couldn’t fathom it.

 

Sara and Dig came down the stairs, sans Felicity. “Where is she?”

 

“We took her home,” Sara replied.

 

“You did what?” he tried and failed to keep the edge out of his voice.

 

“She insisted, man,” Dig responded. “It was just a shoulder wound. She’ll be fine.”

 

Shoulder wound? “Which shoulder?”

 

“Right,” Sara answered casually.

No. No, no, no, no. This wasn’t possible. Oliver had somehow just missed the sniper. It wasn’t because there was no sniper. There was. This was no a soulmate wound. It just wasn’t.

 

“Oliver, you’re bleeding.” Sara trailed her fingers over his shoulder. “Let me patch you up.”

 

“Unless you need me, Oliver,” Dig said, “I’m heading back home.”

 

Oliver sat on a stool to give Sara access to his shoulder. “No, we’re good. Say hi to Lyla for me.”

 

Sara helped him out of his jacket, and slowly peeled off his undershirt. “It’s not that deep, seems your-” She froze. “Oliver, who shot you?”

 

“I didn’t see him,” Oliver answered hesitantly.  
  
“Because this is exactly where Felicity was shot,” Sara stated slowly.

 

His fears had been confirmed. He had taken half the wound for Felicity. She was his soulmate. How was this possible? Why hadn’t she said anything? Did she not know? How?

 

“You need to go talk to her,” Sara said as she smoothed the bandage over his skin.  
  
“Sara, I-”

 

“Don’t worry about it. Honestly, Ollie, we never should’ve...it’s over. Go find her.” Sara picked up her things and left. Oliver didn’t give himself time to second-guess anything. He changed into civilian clothes, hopped on his bike, and took off.

 

Soon, he was banging on her door, desperate for her to answer. Desperate and fearful to see her. She answered the door. She looked exactly the same as she always did. So how was it possible that everything was different now?

 

He barged in, not waiting for an invitation. Her apartment wasn’t neat and tidy, like she usually kept her space. Then again, he didn’t let her spend much time here. He never allowed himself to come here, either. He didn’t want to ever be so involved in her life.

 

Oliver finally turned to her. “We’re soulmates.”

 

She didn’t react. She gave him nothing to go on. When it became clear she had nothing to say, Oliver filled the silence. “Show me.”

 

She slowly shed her top. He gasped. He knew every single mark on her, but he had never seen them on Felicity’s skin. He was angry, angry that someone had done this to her, angry at himself. Pained that he was angry. Sad that she had to suffer this. But it was all his fault.

 

He couldn’t take it. It was too much to take. To have done this to an innocent person was one thing, but to Felicity? His Felicity? He couldn’t hold his own weight anymore. He collapsed onto her couch.

 

“How long?” he mumbled. She took a seat on the coffee table across from him.

 

“A year. Since the night you brought me in.”

 

He nodded stoically. She had known for a year, and done nothing about it. She knew he was a monster. She had suffered for six, going on seven years because of him. He couldn’t breath. Everything was stifling. He couldn’t think. His only thought was that he had tortured the woman he-

 

“I need you to focus on my voice, Oliver. Breathe in, breathe out. Good. Again.” She grabbed his hands, and it was like he could feel again. “Squeeze my hands. It’s okay. You’re safe. It’s just me. Just Felicity.”

 

She got him under control. He needed to know, needed to know why she had gone through this. “Why didn’t you get the shot?”

 

“My soulmate needed me. I couldn’t abandon him.” What kind of person did that? How could she be full of such goodness?

 

“Slade, Merlyn, the Bratva...Felicity, I’ve been tortured.”

 

She absently traced a few of her stab wounds, like she was aligning each wound with what she knew they represented. “I know.”

 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” How could she have known for a year and let this continue?

 

“At first, I felt insecure, scared you’d still reject me.” He could never. “Then, I realized you could never save the city if I was holding you back.”

 

“Felicity….”

 

“No, listen. Tell me you’d have still gone out there every night if you knew.” Of course he wouldn’t. If he knew his soulmate was her, he’d have gotten the shot that very second. Have her take it for good measure. Separate them in every way possible.

 

“Of course not! I’d have taken the shot, and-”

 

“And doubled all your injuries. You wouldn’t last like that. This was my way of saving this city. And I knew you’d never accept it.” No, he wouldn’t. Just like he wasn’t accepting it now.

 

“That isn’t your job! You didn’t sign up for this! My choices shouldn’t cause you pain, they just shouldn’t.” He shook his head, and stood. “I need to go.”

 

“And what? Get the shot? That’s a death sentence, Oliver.”

 

“It’s better than…” he gestured at her, “this.” Better than knowing he was the cause of all her pain. Better than seeing her suffer.

 

He got to the door, when he felt it in his bones: despair. Not his, hers. He rarely felt her emotions so strongly, for whatever reason. But he needed to know now how she could feel despair at him saving her. “Why do you feel that way?”

 

She wiped tears off her face. “I’m not going to stop you, if this is what you want. You have Sara, and Laurel, and even if you didn’t...even if you didn’t, it’d probably still be the same.”

 

What did the girls of his past have to do with her suffering now? “What do they have to do with this?”

 

“If you’d rather be with them, I understand. It’s your choice.” What? She thought he wanted to separate himself from her because he wanted to go back to Sara? To Laurel?

 

He went to sit as close to her as he dared. “You think this is about me choosing other women?”

 

“If you don’t want to be my soulmate, I understand. You do what’s best for you, Oliver.”

 

“This is not about other women. This is about you.”

 

“Right, because I’m-”

 

“Let me finish. This is about you bleeding for me. This is about the bruises that litter your chest. This is about the scars that will never heal. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t put an end to it. It’s inexcusable.”

 

“Then why didn’t you end it, Oliver? The Gambit sank six and a half years ago! You’ve been stateside eighteen months! If it’s so inexcusable to have your soulmate suffer, why didn’t you put an end to it?”

 

Oliver jumped up. He believed, in his soul, that his soulmate was a horrible person. That she deserved this as much as he did, that they might not ever find each other. “Because she wasn’t you! Okay? She was out there, she wasn’t here, she wasn’t you!”

 

“So you know me?” She stood. “So what? You knew you had a soulmate, you just didn’t care. You don’t get to feel guilty only because your soulmate is someone you work with.”

 

How could she not get it? She wasn’t someone he worked with, she was everything. “No! I get to feel guilty that she’s someone I could really care about!”

 

“That is crap, Oliver! If you cared about me, why are you with Sara? Or Laurel? Or Isabel freakin’ Rochev?”

 

He winced when she threw his past back at him. “When I’m in someone’s life, for real, they get hurt. Look at yourself, Felicity. You chose to care about me, and it’s destroying you. You think I want that for you?” He strode back to the door. “I’m ending it.”

 

He opened the door and went down her driveway to his bike. He needed to get far away from her before she twisted this. He wasn’t going to be convinced that this travesty was somehow right.

 

“Oliver!” He ignored her. “Oliver! You do not get to make this decision on your own!”

 

He turned to see her running after him in her bra. He hadn’t really thought of it as inappropriate before, more a reveal of their souls than anything physical. Still, he doubted her neighbors would see it that way. He shrugged his jacket off and threw it at her.

 

She caught it and looked at it disgustedly. “What is this? A memento?”

 

“Cover up,” he hissed.

 

She looked down at herself, and a blush spread from her face, down to her….she put the jacket on before Oliver could finish that thought.

 

“Thank you,” she huffed. “Will you let me talk now?”

 

He needed to keep his resolve. “You won’t change my mind.”

 

“Then it won’t hurt to hear me out.” He gestured at her to continue. “If you get that shot, the next bullet wound could be fatal without me to help you take it. I won’t have it on my conscience that a good man died because he thought I couldn’t take it. I can. I have. I will.”

 

“I’m not a good man, Felicity. I’m a murderer.”

 

“And you’ve saved so many lives Oliver. I know who you are, and who you can be. Who I can help you be.”

 

“No, Felicity. This is wrong.”

 

She said nothing, but paced up to him. Before he knew what was happening, she had grabbed the collar of his v-neck and pulled him down, pressing her lips to his. He couldn’t think, couldn’t breath, could only feel. Her hands went to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. Out of pure instinct, he kissed her back. He could feel how much she wanted him, like he wanted her, all mixed up until he didn’t know whose feelings were whose. She pulled back and whispered, “Did that feel wrong?”

 

He kept his eyes closed, trying to regain control. This is wrong, this is wrong, he repeated in his head. Then why did it feel anything but?

 

“You think this is about me not wanting you?” He opened his eyes. “This is about me wanting you too much. But I can’t let that lead me to hurt you.”

 

She crossed her arms. “It would hurt me more if you severed the bond. So much more.”

 

He sighed, running his hands over his face. Then he laughed humorlessly. “So what are we going to do?”

 

“I don’t know. But I don’t think either of us can live with what the other wants.”

 

“Some soulmates we are, huh?”

 

“Well, we’ve never been particularly agreeable with each other. Makes sense that would extend to this as well.” She shrugged. “You hungry? I have lo mein in the fridge.”

 

“You giving up on this fight?” That wasn’t like her.

 

“Call it a time-out.” That made more sense.

 

Felicity led him back into the apartment, switching out his jacket for her blouse. She pulled some containers out of the fridge, and put them in the microwave. He sat down at her kitchen table, and did anything but look at her. When she put the warmed containers on the table, she tried to give him his jacket back.

 

“It looks better on you, anyway.” She put the jacket on, proving his point. But there was more thing he had to know. “How did you do it?”

 

“What?”

 

“Remain emotionless for all those years.”

 

“Oh, that. Meditation, mostly. I figured you clearly had enough on your plate without me worrying about my linear algebra final. And I was right for the record.”

 

She had done that for him? Someone she had never met? She changed her life, just to make his easier. “You’re remarkable.” He could see she didn’t believe him. “No, really. Anyone else would’ve taken the shot if their soulmate got stabbed. But you went through it for years.”

 

“It wasn’t that bad.”

 

Now it was his turn to look at her in disbelief. “I went through it, too, Felicity. I knew exactly how it felt.”

 

“I was wondering…” She stopped before she could finish the question.

 

He needed to know what it was. “What?”

 

She stretched back her blouse to showcase her wounds. She pointed at the scar from when Yao Fei first shot him. “You got this pretty early. What was it?”

 

He didn’t want to tell her, not yet. “What were you doing when you got that?”

 

“Watching TV with my boyfriend.” Boyfriend? She had had a boyfriend before she met him? It made sense of course, but it still made him jealous. “He dumped me that night, when I refused to take the shot.”

 

“Oh.” Oliver busied himself in his noodles, not wanting to take pride in the fact that he had inadvertently caused her breakup. Without looking up, he said, “I was shot with an arrow. The man’s name was Yao Fei. I wear his hood.”

 

“You wear the hood of a man who tried to kill you?”

 

“If he was trying to kill me, he would have. It was just a test. He wanted to know if I could survive.”

 

“And you did,” she offered gently.

 

“And I did.” He looked up at her. “Because of you.” Her tried to pour all the thanks he had for her into his look. She seemed to understand, because she looked at him like she really saw him, in a way that no one else did. Maybe that was how she had always seen him.

“Why won’t you let me keep helping you?”

 

“Felicity….”

 

“No, I don’t see it. The connection keeps both of us safe, you now. You helped me take that bullet tonight-”

 

“You won't be taking any more bullets. Ever.”

 

“Be that as it may, the connection is a support system. What are you going to do without that in your life?”

 

“I’ll manage.”

 

“No, you won’t.”

 

“This argument is going nowhere, Felicity. I’m not going to change my mind.”

 

“That kiss...we’re made for each other.” He wasn’t going to refute anything about that kiss.

 

“If I cared for you, I’d get the shot. Simple as that.”

 

“If you cared for me, you’d listen to what I want.”

 

“No, I’d do what’s best.”

 

“The fact that you haven’t left yet is proof you don’t know what’s best. You’re stuck.” And she saw him so clearly again. “I’ll make this easy for you. Do you want to be with me?”

How could she even ask that? “You’re my soulmate, of course I-”

 

“No, do you want to be with me? Felicity Smoak, IT girl slash vigilante?”

 

“I want you to be safe.”

 

“Has not being with me kept me safe?”

 

He lowered his head in shame. “No.”

 

She reached across the table, and rested her fingers on the underside of his jaw. He tried not to lean into her touch, but he couldn’t resist the temptation. She tilted his head up until he had to look into her eyes. “That was my choice. Just like this is my choice. I choose to take on your burdens, for better or for worse, because that’s what this is about. Sharing our lives. It hurts me to think about you going out there, unprotected. It hurts me to know you're all alone in that big mansion, unable to sleep because of the invading nightmares. And it hurts me to think of someone else being the one you share your life with. I want this, I choose this, I choose you.”

 

That was it. He couldn’t stop himself anymore. He closed the distance between them, capturing her mouth with his. He couldn’t sort out all the emotions he was feeling, not to mention what she was feeling. He just knew he needed her close. He tugged on her arms until she took the hint, traveling from her chair to his, sitting in his lap, like she was meant to be there. When the need to breathe became too great, he pulled back, leaning down to rest his forehead against hers.

 

“Wow,” she whispered.

 

He chuckled. “Wow indeed.” He could suddenly feel her panic. “What is it?”

 

“Sara. Oh my God, I’m a homewrecker.”

 

“Hardly. Sara and I are done. It was mutual.”

 

“Oh. That was quick.”

 

“As soon as she saw the wound, she knew. She practically kicked me out to get me here.”

 

He kept her on his lap, held against him. He felt her heartbeat morph until hers was in synch with his. He stroked her hair in what he hoped was comforting to her, while she played with the hairs on the back of his neck.

 

“So is that a yes?” she asked.

 

He pulled back a bit to look at her fully. “A yes to what?”

 

“To choosing me?”

 

A wide smile broke out over his face. “There was no choice to make.”

 

She kissed him again then, lightly but full of love. “Stay,” she breathed against his lips, as his hands tightened around her waist.

 

“Tonight?” He wanted to be sure of what she wanted.

 

“Forever.” He had no complaints to that.

 

Oliver woke up in warmth. Not heat, not brightness, but warmth. Safety. That hadn’t happened in seven years, or maybe ever. He was disoriented, until he rolled over and saw the blonde lying next to him. Felicity.

 

That night before, he had basically committed to her forever. It should scare him, but it didn’t. It only increased the warmth. She was still fast asleep, wearing last night’s clothes, just like him. Turns out having a bullet wound made them both exhausted, so they just slept. He didn’t mind; forever allowed him plenty of time for other activities.

 

He wanted to make her breakfast, so she could wake up to a romantic gesture. However, he couldn’t cook to save his life. His only culinary skill was roasting rabbits over an open flame, and leaving the rest to Raisa.

 

Oliver crawled out of bed, making sure not to wake her as he did. He hadn’t really looked around her room the night before. It was bright and cluttered, with clothes strewn about the floor. He didn’t care. Stepping around dresses and skirts, he made his way to the bedroom door.

 

“Going somewhere?”

 

He whipped around to see her lying there, in all her bed-headed glory. “I was going to make you breakfast?”

 

“You can cook?”

 

“No.”

 

“Then come back to bed.”

 

Without hesitation, he crawled back into the warm bed, snuggling under the covers. She cuddled up to his side, tangling their limbs together as she did.

 

“What are you thinking?” she whispered, tracing patterns over his heart.

 

“How happy I am.” And it was true; he didn’t know the last time he had been so content.

 

“You haven’t been this happy since you reunited with your family.”

 

“One of the best days of my life. That day, and last night.”

 

She propped her head up in her hand, and smiled at him. “Really?”

 

“Really.”

 

“So no fears?”

 

He reached up and kissed her gently. “None.”

 

“Because I have some. Fears, that is.” He gave her a questioning look. “Your family, for one. The press, for another. The company, for a third.”

 

He readjusted her so she was lying on his chest. “You let me worry about my family. We’ll work with a consultant to create a press strategy. And if by the company, you mean Isabel, I’ll handle her. You have nothing to worry about.”

 

“So then why am I so worried?”

 

There was a little crease between her eyes, which he smoothed out with his thumb. “You wouldn’t be you if you weren’t thinking ahead, looking out for us.”

 

She turned to face him, smiling. “Us?”

 

“Yes, us.” He leaned down to kiss her, because he could. He was the only man allowed to kiss her freely, and a part of him thrilled at that. He didn’t think he’d ever get tired of this, lying in bed with her, his lips on hers, holding her. There was something, though, that had been on his mind ever since last night. “Can I ask you something?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“How old were you when your dad left?”

 

“I was eight. Why?”

 

He sighed. “Because when I was eleven, I went through a phase when I was scared my father was leaving.”

 

“Oh.” She held onto him tighter. “Oliver, I’m so sorry.”

 

“Don’t be. I’m glad I was able to be there for you, in some small fraction of the way you were there for me. The way we’ll be forever.”

 

“Mmm. Forever is a long time, Mr. Queen.”

 

“I’m game if you are, Ms. Smoak.”

 

He could feel her happiness as clearly as he could feel his own. Forever was a long time, but he couldn’t wait to get started.


End file.
